Ginger the Buddha Cat by Frank Kusy

Author:Frank Kusy [Kusy, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Grinning Bandit Books
Published: 2013-12-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Sparky goes online

Ginger’s idea was simple. He returned to the sausage stand and pooped on it. On the grill, to be precise. And while Rolf was running around, looking for the hidden gypsy, he frightened one of his customers into dropping a big, juicy kaseknacker.

‘This is just the ticket!’ he crowed to himself as he sauntered back home. ‘Frou-Frou’s gonna just love this!’

But Frou-Frou didn’t love it. She took one sniff at the sausage and said, ‘Oh no, I can’t eat that. It’s got cheese in it. I’m lactose intolerant!’

‘Oh dear,’ sighed Sparky as her bushy tail disappeared from sight. ‘Well, there’s only one thing left to do.’

‘What’s that, then?’ said Ginger, eyeing the rejected sausage unhappily.

‘We’ll have to go online.’

‘On what?’

‘Online. On a pooter. Whenever ol’ Joe wants something not in Tescos, he sits in his chair, plays with a mouse, and asks this very clever box to find it for him.’

‘He plays with a mouse?’ marvelled Ginger respectfully. ‘Cor, he really was a cat last time round, weren’t he!’

‘It’s not a real mouse,’ explained Sparky. ‘It just tells the pooter what to do. Maybe we can ask it to find you a sausage.’

‘A top sausage?’

‘Why not? Let’s go try right now.’

And with that Sparky leapt across the garden fences, Ginger following wheezily behind, and returned to the pussy palace they both called home.

Here, to his delight, he found Joe absent and the computer still switched on.

‘All we have to do now,’ he informed his orange friend, ‘is talk to a nice human called Google.’

And with a pencil clenched between his practiced little teeth he typed in:

Whatsthebestsausageintheworldandwherecanifinditplease?

A whole host of strange messages popped up, including an advertisement for drain cleaner.

‘I don’t think he knows,’ said Sparky disappointedly. ‘I think he’s sleeping.’

‘Whaddya mean, he don’t know?’ snarled Ginger, elbowing Sparky aside. ‘Ere, let me have a word with him!’

And with that, he banged down on the keyboard with two heavy paws like a crazed phantom of the opera.

‘Oi, Mister Google!’ he screeched. ‘Wake up and give me a sossidge!’

Several miles away, at No 10 Downing Street, the British Prime Minister was puzzled to receive the following email:

GAAAAARRRRGUUUBRRRRRJIPPPIT

‘I wonder who that is?’ he thought to himself. ‘Is my butler drunk again?’

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